


Kiss and Make Up

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Series: Dean Winchester and Donna Hanscum [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:21:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7991755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The continuing saga of Dean and Donna. If you haven’t read One Thing or The Good Memories, you might want to. This is set directly after episode 10.08, Hibbing 911.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss and Make Up

Dean held his phone in his hand and stared at the laptop screen in front of him. No calls, no texts, no emails. Not a word from Donna since they’d left Hibbing. He’d known she was angry, very angry, but he hadn’t realized how much. He set his phone down beside the laptop and picked up his coffee, staring out the window at the light dusting of snow falling from the early November sky.

He hadn’t been happy when he’d discovered Donna was at the lodge with Jody, though his hands had itched to reach out and touch her, to pull her into his arms and kiss her, hold her. It had been too long since he’d seen her, not since the weekend they’d spent together the last time he’d been in the area, helping Jody out on that vampire case, since before he’d been down that long and crazy road he’d traveled as a demon. Phone calls hadn’t been cutting it for either of them and he had already decided that he’d be making a side trip to Stillwater after the case, or possible case, was wrapped up.

Except she’d been there, standing in front of him, right in the line of fire, so to speak. He’d been consumed with worry and fear for Donna, something he wasn’t used to feeling for anyone other than his brother, and it had him on edge, irritated, seeing red. He’d lucked into getting her alone, running into her outside the Gear expo. He’d pulled her backward down a short hallway, trapping her in the corner, catching her lips in his and kissing her.

She’d fisted her hands in the lapels of his jacket as she rose up on her toes, pushing herself into the kiss, a little moan leaving her. Dean’s arms had slid all the way around her, holding her close, everything else gone from his head except the fact that Donna was in his arms.

When they’d finally broke apart, Donna had rested her forehead on his chest, sighing deeply. He’d pressed a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the sweet vanilla and strawberry scent of her hair.

“What are you doing here, Dean?” she’d asked, her voice slightly muffled, her face pressed against his chest. “Not that I’m complain’ mind yah, I just didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“Sheriff Mills called us,” he’d replied. It wasn’t a lie, not really. He still hadn’t liked the way it felt coming out of his mouth. “Thought maybe we could help.” He cleared his throat, brushing a stray hair off her cheek. “Maybe you should, uh, hit the road, head home? We got this.”

“I need some air,” Donna muttered. Her face had fallen, a dejected, unhappy look crossing it. “I’ll be back in two shakes of a dog’s tail.” She’d taken a step back, turned and practically run off down the hallway.

He’d hurt her feelings, but he’d been unable to bring himself to go after her. He’d only wanted her safe. He’d take care of any damage his concern had caused later.

If he’d thought he was unhappy that Donna was anywhere in the vicinity of danger, he’d been even less happy when she’d joined them on the case. All he’d been able to think about was her lying in the morgue, dead. The thought had made him sick to his stomach. But of course, she hadn’t given two shits about protecting herself, only getting herself involved in something he’d wanted her to stay out of. When he’d told her she was gonna sit it out, he’d been pretty sure she was going to punch him.

“Stuff you, Dean! Or whatever your real name is.” She’d been flushed red with anger, her back ramrod straight, her eyes flashing. Jody coming to her defense hadn’t helped matters any. He’d had no choice but to agree to let her come.

He had to admit that he’d been extremely impressed when Donna had beheaded that vamp, not to mention a little surprised. He’d been even more surprised when she’d refused to talk to him, refused to even look at him after they’d returned to the lodge. He’d followed her inside, finally cornering her near the bar, his hand on her elbow forcing her to stop.

“Donna, will you wait a minute?” he’d asked.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, _Agent Criss_.” Her words had dripped with sarcasm.

“Will you give me a chance to explain?” He’d hated sounding like he was begging, but he’d wanted a chance to make her understand, make her see reason.

She’d shook her head, her blonde hair loose from it’s ponytail and flying in her face, lower lip caught between her teeth. “Oh heck no,” she’d snapped. “I’m done listening to lies. I need a drink.” She’d ripped her arm free and stalked to the end of the bar, dropped onto a stool and turned her back on Dean.

Jody had given him a questioning look, gestured at him to go away and hurried down the bar to talk to Donna. He’d watched them for a few minutes, but it was clear Donna wasn’t going to give an inch. So he’d left.

Forty minutes outside of Hibbing, on the outskirts of Grand Rapids, he’d pulled into an all night diner and over coffee and apple pie, he’d told Sam everything, from meeting Donna more than ten years ago to rediscovering each other a year ago in Stillwater. He didn’t say much about his feelings, didn’t mention the weird gnawing feeling he got in his gut whenever he thought of her, or the sheer terror he’d felt for her when they’d gone up against those vamps, nor did he say anything about how he sometimes thought that she might be _the one_ , the one he’d never thought he’d get, never deserved. He didn’t talk about any of that.

But Sam knew. He always knew.

* * *

 

Two days being cooped up in the bunker, dealing with Sam watching him, waiting for something and he’d had enough. He’d grabbed his laptop and his keys, told his brother where he was going, and left, holing up in the diner in town, ordering cup after cup of coffee. No one cared, he was a familiar face, quiet, always left a good tip.

The waitress stopping by to fill his coffee cup pulled him back to the present. He gave her a tight smile, grabbed his phone and checked it again. Nothing. He brushed a hand over his face, sighing heavily and dropped it back to the table.

“Expecting a phone call, Agent Criss?” Donna slid into the seat across from him, a shy smile on her face.

His heart did a strange stuttering thump in his chest. She was there, in front of him, watching him expectantly.

“Donna, hey,” he muttered. “What are you...what are you doing here? And, um...how the hell did you find me?”

“Well, uh, I thought we could talk,” she shrugged. “Jody, uh, Jody told me I should come talk to you. Well, ordered me might be a better way to put it.” She cleared her throat and pushed her hair off her face. “Sam told me where you were.”

“You still mad at me?” Dean asked quietly.

“Not really,” she murmured. “Jody explained...a lot. Sam, too -”

“You and Sam are bff’s now?” he snapped.

She sighed and shook her head. “No,” she murmured. “I just...I wanted to understand.” She chewed at her lower lip, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She refused to look at him.

Dean rose to his feet, closed his laptop and stuffed his cell phone into his front pocket. “Come on,” he said, nodding toward the door.

Donna followed him out of the diner to the Impala, parked on a side street. He opened the passenger door for her, tossed his stuff in the backseat and climbed in front. They drove in silence for a few miles, Donna staring out the side window, her hands clenched so tight in her lap that her knuckles were turning white. Once they were far enough out of town, Dean pulled off onto a side road that he knew led to nowhere. He killed the lights and engine, sat back and turned to Donna.

She was still looking out the window, adamantly refusing to look at him. He reached over, wrapped a hand around her upper arm and pulled her toward him, meeting her halfway, in the middle of the bench seat. She looked up at him, blinking rapidly.

“Kiss and make up?” he whispered, his lips inches from hers.

Donna nodded, falling into him, her breathing speeding up as she sought out his lips and kissed him. Dean’s arms snaked around her waist and he pulled her onto his lap, her body warm against his. He kissed her like he hadn’t touched her for a thousand years, shit, it felt like he hadn’t touched her in a thousand years. She was soft, perfect, everything he needed, everything he wanted.

He pushed his hands into her hair, deepening the kiss, moaning as her ample breasts pressed against his chest, and her arms slid around his neck. She squeezed her thighs together, rocking against him, drawing another moan from him as his cock hardened.

“Shit, Donna,” he growled. He wrapped his fingers around her long blonde tendrils, pulled her head back, and attacked her neck, sucking and biting, the need to devour her body and soul nearly overwhelming him. He needed to have her scent in his head, her taste on his tongue. _He needed her_.

“Come back to the bunker with me.” It was a question, but not really. He wanted to take her to the place he called home, take her back to his room, make love to her there, take his time with her, make it count, make it mean something. “Please.”

* * *

 

Donna was nervous, very nervous, her hand cold and shaking in Dean’s as she followed him through the bunker. This place was huge, scarily huge. She squeezed his hand and moved closer to him, right on his heels.

He looked over his shoulder at her, flashing her a reassuring smile, squeezing her hand in return. She couldn’t stop staring, trying, and failing, to look everywhere at once. She nearly tripped on the stairs leading to what looked like a war room - a huge table with a map, computer banks, ancient, with flashing red, green and yellow lights, alarms. It was unbelieveable.

Just off of that room was a huge room that looked like a library; it had long tables with lights, and bookshelves, open books were scattered around the table along with piles of papers. She barely had time to look around before Dean was pulling her down a dimly lit hallway, leading her into a small bedroom, shoving the door closed behind them.

“Dean, this place is unbelievable,” she muttered.

“I know,” he breathed. “I’d have given you the tour, but I couldn’t wait to get you alone.” He put his hands on her waist, guiding her across the room until the back of her knees hit the bed. He lowered her to it, gently, his weight a comfort she hadn’t known she’d needed.

His lips on hers, the feel of his tongue tracing her lips, urging them open, pushed everything else from her mind - Dean’s lies, the fear and terror that had been threatening to consume her for days, the monsters she now knew lived under the bed, everything - all of that was gone, the only thing left was Dean. And that was all she needed, all she wanted.

She wrapped her arms around Dean, pulling him in close, wanting all of him, every part of him. He made her feel things she’d never thought she’d feel, not her, not ever.

He was slow, deliberate, as he removed her clothes, piece by piece, stopping frequently to run his hands and his lips over her naked skin. By the time Dean had stripped her naked, she was tingling with desire, every inch of her body on fire with need for him.

“Dean,” she gasped, reaching for him, dragging his lips to hers, kissing him as one hand tugged at the t-shirt still covering him, and the other was tucked in the waistband of his unbuttoned jeans, using it to pull him closer.

“Take them off,” she urged, yanking the shirt up his chest.

“Bossy,” Dean chuckled. He pushed himself to his knees, one boot hitting the dresser by the wall, the other thumping against the door, his clothes hurriedly discarded in a messy pile at the foot of the bed.

“Sorry,” Donna blushed, biting at her lower lip.

“I like it when you’re bossy,” he grinned, leaning over to kiss her cheek, the tip of her nose, her mouth.

“Oh, yah?” she asked, her hand sliding down his stomach and between his legs, her fingers just drifting over his hard shaft. She gently traced circles around the head, her thumb brushing over the slit and the pre-come pooling at the tip.

Dean moaned, his forehead resting against hers, his breath quickening as her hand moved down his length. She put her other hand in the center of his chest, pushing him off of her and onto his back, moving quickly to straddle him, her hand still caressing him, her lips burning a trail down his chest. She licked a path from his bellybutton down the slight v formed by his hips, her tongue swiping at the head of his hard cock bobbing against his lower stomach, her eyes on him.

His hands were fisted in the thin blanket on the bed, his head thrown back, his lower lip caught between his teeth. When she sucked him into her mouth, he drew in a heaving breath, letting it out in one long moan of her name. She swallowed him down, sliding down the length of his shaft, trembling with want as his taste spread across her tongue. Dean’s hips came off the bed, pushing himself deeper into her mouth, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of her head, gently urging her to move.

Donna rose up on her knees, her head bobbing faster and faster, one hand on Dean’s inner thigh, holding his legs open, the other fisted around the base of his cock, her eyes squeezed closed, reveling in the feel of him in her mouth, the feel of him losing control under her skillful ministrations. She squeezed her thighs together, desperate for some kind of release, but not wanting to stop what she was doing, the sheer thrill of pleasuring Dean was almost enough to get her off.

“Donna,” Dean gasped, tugging slightly at her hair.

She looked up at him, pausing just long enough for him to grab her under the arms and slide her up his body, catching her lips in his, moaning into the kiss. She held him in her hand and slowly eased herself onto him, gasping as he filled her. She put her hands on his chest, rocking forward and back, taking her time, letting herself adjust to Dean’s substantial size. He put his hands on her waist, letting her take control, letting her be the one to dictate what happened.

“Touch me, Dean,” she groaned, moving his hand from her waist to between her legs. “Right there,” she gasped as he grazed her clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

His touch was feather light, gentle, perfect, everything she’d ached for, everything she’d wanted from him. She leaned over him, needing his mouth on hers, needing the intimacy, the closeness that kissing him would give her. When she moved, his thumb pressed harder against her, heated bliss consuming her.

“Again,” she demanded, surprised at how quickly Dean did it, how quickly he sought to pleasure her, to do as she asked.

He held her to him, her chest pressed to his, the kiss deepening with every thrust of his hips, his cock brushing against her sweet spot every time he moved, the headboard hitting the wall as their bodies moved faster and faster, consumed with the need to give as much pleasure as possible to each other.

The orgasm hit her like a freight train, bursting through every nerve ending, every muscle, the very fiber of her being filled with an intense, unbelievable, perfect feeling like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, riding Dean slow and easy, dragging it out.

He braced his feet against the bed, his hands slid up her back to her shoulders, holding her tight, pulling her down so he could fuck up into her, his lips on her neck, small, tight thrusts that pressed his abs against her clit and dragged his cock against that spot that set her entire body on fire.

Donna tensed as the orgasm continued exploding inside her, gasping Dean’s name. He pounded into her several more times, every press of his hips into hers increasing the intensity of her climax, making her tremble, making her feel _more_  than she’d ever felt before Dean came along.

Dean let go with a muffled grunt, his face pressed against her neck, his cock throbbing deep inside her.

When it was over, they laid side by side, curled around each other. Dean kept brushing her hair from her face, his green eyes staring into her warm brown ones, his touch gentle as his fingers skimmed her cheek, his lips soft as he brushed the occasional kiss across her forehead.

“You still mad at me?” he asked after awhile.

“Yes,” she nodded. She was determined to make him understand how she felt. “I don’t like to be lied to, Dean. I don’t like to be treated like I’m not capable of handling myself. If you can’t be honest with me, than this -,” she gestured between the two of them, “- whatever this is, well, it isn’t going to work.”

“That’s not what I want,” he whispered quietly. “I...I want this...whatever it is, whatever it could be, I want it.”

Donna was nodding before the words were out of his mouth. She wanted it to. She tucked her head under Dean’s chin, her cheek resting on his chest. She didn’t need the words, just the possibility of them. She closed her eyes, content and safe in his arms.


End file.
